The Choice
by Mish
Summary: Frodo knows he cannot willingly give up the Ring, so what must he do to fulfill his Quest?


Author's Note: Well, I've decided to post another one. I had actually written this one not long after my first story, but I never got around to posting it. I think I was reading this part of the book when I wrote it; either that, or I was arguing with a friend about Frodo's apparent "weakness" concerning the Ring. ;) However it was, this was the next story I felt like writing. Those of you who made suggestions from my previous story, your ideas have not been forgotten. :)  
  
SETTING: Mount Doom; Frodo and Sam have just parted after an attack by Gollum. Sam has urged Frodo to go on to the Cracks of Doom, determined to follow his master once he took care of Gollum. The book at this point takes on the view of Sam as he deals with the wretched creature and then continues onward after Frodo. This story follows Frodo as he makes his way to the Ring's forging place. While the story here is mainly my idea, not Tolkien's (except for some quotes which I'm sure the reader would be able to identify as his), Frodo's plan on what to do is Tolkien's, not mine – information obtained from Humphrey Carpenter's _The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien_.  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
Frodo struggled on. He was a bit hesitant to leave Sam alone with Gollum, fearing not only what that wicked creature could do to his dear friend but also what Sam could do to Gollum. Gandalf's words that even Gollum may have something yet to do before the end rang clearly through Frodo's mind. But that was no longer in Frodo's hands. He had to reach the Cracks of Doom before it was too late. He had felt the urgent call to move and fulfill his Quest. It was now or never. He must not hesitate or give up now, not so close! He hoped Sam would make the right choice concerning Gollum.  
  
It was amazing the strength Gollum's sudden attack had given Frodo. Already he was nearly to the doorway of the Sammath Naur. A brief flash of red flickered from inside. He shot a quick glance over his shoulder to Barad- dûr, almost unconsciously. Even as he did so, he stumbled and fell and did not rise. Hunger and thirst had long since vanished from his mind as all hope of ever eating or drinking again had died, but still his body ached and hurt. His clothes were torn, and he felt light-headed. He knelt there gasping, on his knees, his eyes squeezed shut, his right hand clutching at the chain around his neck. He was alone; Sam was not here to help. He had to stop his hand on his own. It was so difficult, and it was a pain to his mind and body; but with what strength of will he had left he forced his hand away.  
  
Panic and despair filled Frodo's mind as saw how obsessed with the Ring he had become. What was going to happen? How would this end? He knew in his heart that he could not willingly throw the Ring into the Fire. He had known that from the beginning. It was all quite hopeless. Now that he had come to it, he had no idea what to do. He had not planned on actually surviving this far. His heart quailed at the thought of being the downfall of all Middle-earth, and tears stung his eyes as in his mind he saw all the fair and once-safe places fall under the darkness of Sauron and their people killed or enslaved: Lothlórien, and Rivendell, and at last his beloved Shire and Shire-folk. All these images had been fading from his memory over the last couple weeks until finally he could no longer picture them. Now they came back, as sharp as ever, but for torment rather than comfort. Fire raked the peaceful hills of the Shire, trees swayed and crashed to the ground, and hobbits fell left and right, pursued and shot down by Sauron's fell creatures and orcs.  
  
"Nooo!..." Frodo cried in a weak voice, as a sob welled up in his chest. He held his head in his hands, and a single tear fell from his cheek to the dust. This could not happen! He must not let it happen! But what could he do? He was so small and weak...  
  
Suddenly the solution came to him, and slowly he lifted his head, glaring before him into the dark, gaping doorway. His eyes stared with an empty resolve, his face set with a grim determination. He rose painfully to his feet, shuffled a few steps toward the doorway, and paused again. He would not be able to cast the Ring alone into the Fire; he was doomed to claim it for his own, even at the bitter end. But he could destroy himself along with the Ring, throwing himself in after claiming It and thus fulfilling his Quest at the cost of his life... For was that not the price he knew from the beginning that he must pay by accepting this task? He turned and glanced back down the path. Sam was nowhere in sight. "I hope he's still alive," Frodo muttered, a flash of pain crossing his face. "How would he take it, seeing my death?" he wondered. "Well, I hope for his sake that he is not here to witness it, for it would surely break his heart." He hesitated for a moment—but only for a moment. "No, it is better for one to lose his life and save all Middle-earth than for all to die..." His voice trailed off as he forced his feet over the threshold.  
  
Inside, all was hot and dark. Frodo wandered forward aimlessly. Presently he came to a great fissure that opened up before him. Moving cautiously to the edge, he looked down. This must be it.  
  
After all the toil and pain and hardships, he was finally here. The dull scarlet glow illuminated Frodo's face, and a hot blast of air ruffled his dark curls. The struggle in his mind drew to its climax. He could feel his will breaking, even as he lifted the chain from around his neck and held the Ring aloft in his trembling hand. It glinted as the fire blazed up briefly, and Frodo noted the fiery letters appearing once more on the perfect golden band.  
  
_One Ring to rule them all...  
_  
He glanced back down at the lava, knowing what he must do but unable to move.  
  
_One Ring to find them...  
_  
The chain slid to the ground as Frodo held the Ring up between his thumb and forefinger, silhouetted against the red below.  
  
_One Ring to bring them all..._  
  
"Frodo! Master!" Sam's urgent voice came to his ears. Frodo could see him standing in the passageway. Again the lava flared up, lighting the room with an eerie red glow. This time it did not fade back to darkness. Frodo stood erect at the edge of the chasm, unmoving.  
  
_...and in the darkness bind them.  
_  
Emotion stirred within him, and he felt as if his heart would break. "Oh, Sam," he whispered. "I am so sorry." Suddenly another will hardened in him; he shifted, and with a voice that startled even him he called out, "I have come, but I do not choose now to do what I came to do. I will not do this deed. The Ring is mine!" And with that, he set it upon his finger...


End file.
